The First Homecoming
by clarebones
Summary: Spencer brings Carrie home from the hospital, and spends some time taking care of her. Each wonders where they stand with the other.


**The First Homecoming**

**Carrie**

"I can drive, Spencer. I'm not paralyzed." I pouted as he opened the passenger side door of his Volvo. I felt special that he'd driven to pick me up from the hospital, since he usually took the Metro everywhere, but I was cranky. I got in the car, still pouting, and tossed the assortment of stuffed animals I'd recieved into the back seat.

"The doctor said you need to take it easy for another week or so. I'm driving you." He punctuated his statement by closing the door on me. I couldn't help grinning as he walked around to the driver's side, but when he opened his door I cleared my throat and put on my snarkiest frown.

"Well, I'm a doctor and I say I can take care of myself." I crossed my arms in what I hoped was an endearingly defiant manner. "And that's my professional opinion." Spencer rolled his eyes at me. After spending a week visiting me in the hospital and putting up with my stubbornness, he was actually getting pretty good at sarcasm.

"I'm also a doctor, and it's my professional opinion that you need a mental health screening, but that's beside the point." He fastened his seatbelt and started out of the parking lot. "I'm taking care of you until you're fully recovered. You can argue all you want but you're just going to be making it harder on yourself."

"Well now you've gone and done it." I sighed, leaning my seat back and closing my eyes. "I can't resist a man with a take-charge attitude." We chuckled, and he focused on merging onto the interstate. The painkillers were taking effect and I had a feeling I'd be asleep in no time. It was definitely a good thing Spencer was driving.

I was just drifting off when Spencer reached for my hand, the sudden movement snapping me awake. I smiled sleepily at him as he pulled my hand toward himself and held on to it, tracing circles on my palm with his thumb while holding the steering wheel with his left hand. The gentle touch put me right to sleep.

**Spencer**

Carrie fell asleep pretty much as soon as the car was in motion, like I knew she would. She was on enough painkillers to sedate a man twice her size. I wasn't too worried about her though. From the time she woke up in the hospital she'd been back to her sassy, stubborn self; reading her own charts and giving a second opinion on anything and everything her doctor told her.

She slept soundly all the way to her house. When I pulled in the driveway, I hated to even wake her. She was so peaceful. I gently stroked the side of her face with my fingertips. She nuzzled her cheek into the palm of my hand, but didn't wake up. My heart swelled at her unconcious gesture. After my talk with Penelope I had realized she was right, and I was in love with Carrie. I still didn't know how to tell Carrie though.

I got out of the car and walked over to the passenger side, carefully opening the door, making sure Carrie wasn't leaning on it. I unfastened her seatbelt and silently wished I could just carry her inside, but I still couldn't lift much ever since I'd been shot in the leg. I took her by the shoulders and shook her, firmly but gently, and she woke up, looking confused.

"We're here, Carrie. Come inside and you can get in bed." I helped her out of the car and made a mental note to come back for her gifts before I left.

"That was fast," she remarked, groggily.

"Actually traffic was terrible, you just slept the whole way." I laughed. She fumbled with her house keys and I took them from her. "You have a new door. Morgan kicked in the old one. Hotch and Will put this one up for you." I unlocked the door with the new keys.

"Well that was nice of them," she yawned, and stumbled in the doorway. I caught her quickly, letting my arms linger around her waist. She rested her head on my shoulder. "I wish they'd also installed an elevator to my bedroom." She sighed and pulled away from me, leaning on the stair rail.

"Please be careful," I warned, closing the front door and locking it behind me. She frowned at me.

"I'm fine shug," she retorted. "I didn't get stabbed in the legs!"

I followed her up the stairs, and caught her as she tripped on the last step.

"Woah, how did you get here so fast?" She giggled, and I knew the painkillers were in full effect. "You were way down there a second ago."

"I've been right behind you the whole time," I laughed.

"No way, I could have sworn you were down there." She pointed downstairs. "I'm pretty sure you are secretly Superman." I winked at her.

"I am, but don't tell anyone." I pulled back her bedsheets and she climbed in. As I tried to cover her with the blankets she rolled over and patted the now empty space in front of me.

"Come here." She reached for my hand, trying to pull me toward herself. I actually was pretty tired. I hadn't slept much while Carrie was in the hospital. I had stayed there beside her almost every night for a week. And the nights I had gone home, I couldn't close my eyes without seeing Devin's anguished expression when she threw me out of her apartment and told me she never wanted to see me again.

I wasn't sure why I hesitated to lie next to Carrie in her bed. We had slept pressed together on her couch not even two weeks before. This was different though, her bed was a whole different territory.

"I need to go pick up your prescriptions and bring in your gifts. Will you be ok alone for half an hour while I go to Walgreens?" I asked, reaching out to smooth her hair.

"I'll be asleep before you're out of the driveway," she yawned. She squeezed my hand and closed her eyes. "Will you wake me up when you get back? I don't want to sleep all day."

"You should sleep as much as you can. It will help you heal faster." I pulled the covers up around her shoulders as I spoke. She stretched, then snuggled into her pillow.

"Okaaay," she sighed, "If you insist. But at least wake me up before CSI: Miami."

"I promise, I'll wake you up in time for CSI: Miami." I laughed, I still couldn't figure out why a world-renowned forensic scientist loved such an unrealistic portrayal of her field, but she never missed the show. She yawned once more and rolled onto her side. I started to leave, then lingered in the doorway, wanting to stay; wanting to climb into her bed and wrap my arms around her. I needed to figure out what we were first, though. And that conversation could wait until she wasn't high as a kite on pain medication.

**Carrie**

I woke up disoriented, nauseous, and thirsty, immediately thinking of the last time I'd been hungover. The searing pain across my chest and under my ribs nearly gagged me.

I didn't know if Spencer was still there. He could have gone to work after he brought me home. I sat upright, holding one hand over my eyes and using the other for support. I reached for the alarm clock on my nightstand, to check the time. Instead of the clock, my hand landed against something tall, heavy, and cold. I looked over to find a glass of water, and next to it, a Lortab.

"Best. Nurse. Ever." I whispered, thinking of Spencer as I picked up the pill. I transferred it to my left hand and reached for the water.

With drugs in my system, I decided to attempt to bathe. I felt like I had a film of sweat all over me. I ran a shallow bath and tried very carefully to wash without getting my stitches underwater. I washed my hair in the sink, to be on the safe side. Feeling much better, I found a clean nightshirt and some underwear in the laundry basket i'd left under my ironing board. As I headed for the bedroom door to exit, I caught a look at my bare legs in the full-length mirror hanging on my closet door. Using my better judgement, I fished a pair of Soffees out of my dresser and put them on before going downstairs.

I could hear noises in the kitchen and the TV was on, so I wasn't shocked to find Spencer in the kitchen when I came through. What did surprise me, however, was finding him standing over the stove, stirring something in a saucepan.

"You're cooking?" I think my jaw may have dropped, literally.

"Yeah, you don't need to take hydrocodone on an empty stomach." He turned from the stove. "Where are your plates?"

I pointed to the appropriate cabinet. "But, you're a genius. A genius FBI agent. Who can also cook?" I stammered, surpressing the irrational desire to picture myself in a white dress with a sparkling diamond on my left hand.

"Well, this just happens to be my specialty." He laughed, passing me a plate of macaroni and cheese. I grinned, taking a fork from the drawer and opening the fridge. I handed him a Coke, took one for myself, and we carried our plates into the living room.

As we sat on the couch and the TV announced that CSI: Miami would start after the commercial break, I thought I couldn't have imagined a more perfect night. Not only had Spencer essentially saved my life, he sat patiently by me for a week in the hospital, brought me home, cooked dinner, and remembered my favorite show. It blew my mind that someone so unnervingly gorgeous, brilliant, and perfect in nearly every way was spending his time with me. I felt like I'd won the lottery. I made a mental note to squeal and dance around my room like a little girl as soon as I was alone.

**Spencer**

Watching CSI with Carrie was entertaining. I didn't pay much attention to the show, but watching her was more entertaining anyway. She looked like an avid sports fan watching an intense game. She yelled at the TV, bit her nails, covered her face...I held back my laughter, but couldn't contain my grin.

"OH MY GOD, SHIT JUST GOT REAL!" Carrie squealed near the end of the episode, after one of the characters narrowly missed being in an exploding car when he dropped something and had to go back and pick it up. I laughed, and she pushed me, playfully. "Don't judge me. You'd be the same way if we were watching Star Trek." She laughed, and looked so radiant and happy you never would have known she'd been through two weeks of hell. I wondered how she managed to put it all behind her and enjoy the moment the way she did. She was genuinely happy when she smiled at me. Her eyes sparkled like someone had turned on a light bulb behind her face. I pushed away the thought that I could be in any way responsible for that. After all, what had I done? I picked up some prescriptions and cooked box macaroni and cheese...nothing special.

"Um, Spence? Earth to Spence..." Carrie waved at me, laughing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so tired." I yawned. "What did you say?"

"I said thank you!" She rolled her eyes at me. "You really didn't have to do all this for me." She crossed her arms, and I noticed a more pronounced physical distance between us than I'd gotten used to over the past couple of weeks. I started to worry if I'd overwhelmed her.

"Oh, it's no big deal. I just know from experience how hard it is being home alone when you're hurt and don't feel good. I figured I'd help you get settled in at least." I felt self-concious all of a sudden, wondering if she even wanted me here to begin with. Maybe she didn't feel the same way about me that I felt about her. That first night...she was so emotional about the case, and I was using. Was that all there was to it?

I picked up our dishes and took them to the kitchen. Carrie stood in the doorway and leaned on the frame while I put the plates and forks in the dishwasher.

"I really appreciate everything." She said, her expression softening. I realized I had no idea what was going on. I may be a profiler, but I had no clue how to read women. Well, normal women, who weren't serial killers. Was she letting me down easily? Was she afraid she'd offended me? How would I know? Asking outright was out of the question.

"I think I'm going to head home and try to get my place straightened up." I said, not making eye contact with her. "I probably have two weeks' worth of laundry in my bedroom floor."

I walked past her without looking her in the face, and found my sweater and keys. She slowly followed me to the front door, staying a little bit behind. When I opened the door, I looked back at her, and she just stood next to the stairs biting her lip.

"Call me in the morning if you need anything, ok?" I didn't want to leave, but I also didn't want to overstay my welcome. Carrie just nodded at me, and I slipped out the door and closed it behind me. I stopped when I was on her porch, my back to the door. Things had never been this confusing with Devin. Maybe it's true what they say, that love is confusing and hard. And in that case maybe it was true what Devin had said, that I had never really loved her.

I sighed, and walked slowly down the front steps. When I was on the sidewalk I heard the door open behind me, and Carrie gingerly skipped down the front steps in her pajamas, leaving the door open behind her.

"Spencer, I-OUCH!" She stopped and hopped on her bare left foot, having stubbed her right toe on the sidewalk. I held her arm to keep her from falling over. "Thanks," she closed her eyes and cursed under her breath for a second, then looked back up at me.

"I want you to stay...if you want to." She bit her lip, waiting for my reply.

"I, um...sure." This wasn't going to get any less complicated or confusing, was it?

Carrie sighed with what almost seemed like relief, and a shy smile broke out across her face.

"I really do appreciate you taking care of me, even though I don't think I deserve it. And I really-" she stopped short, as if measuring her words.

"You really what?" I laughed. She took both my hands in hers, looking at them rather than my face.

"I really want to do this..." she whispered, leaning towards me. She dropped my hands and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pressing her lips against mine. Instantly, all the confusion from before seemed irrelevant. As I kissed her back, I thought this might get easier, as long as I was patient.


End file.
